Parenthood: A Trial Run
by LeFay Strent
Summary: After they were assigned together, Amelia turned to Arthur, practically wrote off his participation entirely, and claimed that she would parent the fake child all on her own . . . And here she was. Parenting all on her own. On Arthur's doorstep at nine o'clock on a Friday night. Nyo!US/UK
1. Chapter 1

"This is your fault."

"How is this _my_ fault."

"Because _you're_ the one who was determined to do things alone, spouting off that nonsense, 'I'm an independent woman and I don't need no man to help me raise a child.' And look where it's got you! On my doorstep in the middle of the night."

"Nine o'clock isn't really the middle of the night—"

"That's beside the point! Here you are, failing horribly on your first day as an 'independent single mother'."

"Not failing."

"This damn thing won't stop screaming!"

"Just like its father."

Arthur looked at her as if he were seriously considering murder. In his arms he bounced a crying, animatronic baby given to them by their Home Economics class. Of course, Amelia had pressured the teacher into letting her go in alone on what was usually a paired assignment. Someone had to stand up for all the single moms out there, and Amelia thought it would make the simulation more realistic than having a class full of 'parents' who all stayed together.

The teacher more or less laughed in her face. To make matters worse, Amelia had piddled around until everyone had paired up.

Everyone except for Arthur Kirkland that is.

Because no one wanted to pair up with him.

Not because Arthur was a horrible asshole or anything—okay, he could sometimes be an ass, or so she had heard. Amelia hadn't talked much to him at all. But she'd heard all sorts of things from Francis, Gilbert, Lovino, Antonio, Michelle and their other classmates. Mostly that Arthur was perpetually grumpy, nagged incessantly, was clumsy and forgetful, consorted with the devil, and cooked things that dogs wouldn't even touch.

Strangely, Amelia heard some better impressions from Kiku, Ludwig, and of all people, Lukas. Kiku wasn't that surprising. He would be hard pressed to admit out loud that he disliked anybody. Ludwig might have been more surprising, since he was a pretty hard guy to please. But Lukas?

Lukas always looked at the world like he was half seeing it, which gave him this air of mystery (Amelia liked to believe that he was seeing spirits or silently hexing the whole student body). But he was intelligent, could be quite scathing to people with the name of Mathias, and his little brother Emil constantly disowned him for being too worrisome and affectionate. The idea of Lukas being affectionate to anyone was like stepping into the Twilight Zone.

Where was she going with this again? Oh yeah, Lukas didn't seem to mind Arthur, even said he was "dependable" at one point. With the way he gave a wispy smile when he said it, Amelia didn't know whether that was a compliment or an insult.

The point was, if Amelia really had to be partnered with someone, Arthur would probably be her last choice. If the bad rumors were true about him, he didn't have the qualities you would want in a parent.

So after they were assigned together, Amelia turned to Arthur, practically wrote off his participation entirely, and claimed that she would parent the fake child all on her own.

And here she was.

Parenting all on her own.

On Arthur's doorstep at nine o'clock on a Friday night.

"How did you even find where I live? I never told you . . ." Arthur said. As put-out as he was about her showing up, he held the crying baby in his arms, bouncing it slightly like he knew what he was doing. Amelia didn't care if he did or not at this point. That child had killed her soul.

Amelia shrugged as she looked at the nearby hedge bushes nonchalantly. "Francis told me."

"Of course that bastard did," Arthur huffed. He glanced down at the baby when its crying switch decided to turn off. They both relaxed, but Arthur didn't for long. He straightened up and leveled a hard stare at Amelia. "I hope this has given you some perspective."

"Yeah, I never want to have kids now."

"Amelia," he said, emphasizing her name harshly. "If we want to pass this assignment, we'll need to work _together_. Being a parent means knowing when to leave your stubborn pride at the door for the sake of your child."

Amelia's mouth hung open. She honestly never expected Arthur to sound so serious about this stupid assignment. Or to berate her with a life lesson. How dare he?

Before she could open her mouth to protest, Arthur curtailed her. "And before you deny any wrong doing, take a look at where you're standing. If you really could have done this alone, then you wouldn't have come to me."

"I should have went to Gilbert," Amelia muttered, hating that Arthur was right. Realistically, she could have gone to Francis or Antonio too. They liked to play the "big brother" type and she could get them to do about anything if she batted her eyes at them. It just would have been more practical to go to Gilbert since he lived down the road from her house.

And yet she was here . . . getting scolded by Arthur Kirkland.

Shoulda woulda coulda.

Arthur scoffed. "As if that idiot knows anything about raising a child. I feel sorry for Kiku getting paired with him. Besides, he's not your partner. I am."

Amelia raised a brow, scanning Arthur up and down. "And you do? Know how to parent I mean?"

Arthur smirked. Which was kind of confusing because Amelia hadn't seen him look like this before, or have him look at her like this, and it was weird because it made his green eyes illuminate under the porch light in a way that Amelia might call sexy. But she wouldn't, because this was Arthur she was talking to. Frumpy, problematic Arthur Kirkland.

"I got this one to calm down, didn't I?" he asked, nodding his head towards the bundle of joy in his arms.

"Mm. Maybe," Amelia answered noncommittally. She hated the fact that he was able to shut it up and she couldn't.

"Now then. We're going to do this right, and _together_. And we can't do that if you go back home and I'm here. So you're staying here."

"Wait, what?"

"Think of it as an extended sleep over. With a baby."

Amelia waved her hands in the universal STOP motion. This was going too fast. Arthur couldn't seriously be suggesting this.

"You want me to sleep over at your house for tonight?"

He looked at her like she was dumb. "No, for the entire weekend of course."

An entire weekend? With Arthur Kirkland?

"We barely even know each other," Amelia protested.

"And yet we have a child together."

"A fake child! And why do we have to stay at _your_ house? We could go to mine." That sounded a lot better than going into Arthur's house. Who knew what waited in there?

"Because you're the one who started this mess, and I'm ending it. You're staying here and that's final." Leaving no room for argument, Arthur spun on his heel and swept into the darkness of his home.

Amelia stood on the porch step, baffled and beside herself.

"But I have work tomorrow," she said weakly to no one.

She could leave right now. Get in her car and go. Just to spite him.

Eventually, Amelia groaned and went inside. Arthur's spooky house or no, she wasn't just going to let him kidnap their child.

Even if the child was hell-spawn.

* * *

 **Hey, s'up?**

 **Hope you liked it. I had a lot of fun writing this. I've seen USUK stories before involving them getting paired for this sort of parenting assignment, but I've never seen Amelia involved. Don't get me wrong, I love Alfred to death, but Amelia is feisty, and I like her paired with Arthur but I don't see much of that, so here ya go.**

 **There will be more to come whenever I have time to edit the next part. Until then, review? Pretty please? :D**


	2. Chapter 2

In the event that a bushy-browed villain wanted to trap you in his lair, there was one backup plan that never failed.

Parents!

Parents were lovely creatures, sensible adults, upholders of curfews and other rules that transgressed against the rights of freedom! You could depend on them to say, "Of course you can't stay at a boy's house for a whole weekend, Amelia! Get home right now!"

Or at least . . . that's how it _should_ have gone.

First Arthur's mother was all, "A school parenting project? Oh, how sweet! Of course you can stay over and look after my robotic grandbaby!" She acted like it was the most natural thing in the world (and secretly Amelia wondered if this was the first time Arthur had brought a girl home and his mom was a little desperate).

Amelia could hardly keep her polite smile in place as she asked for the bathroom. Momma Kirkland pointed the way and Amelia tried not to look like she was fleeing for her life.

And here Amelia was now, huddled in the bathtub with her phone, hidden behind a colorful seahorse shower curtain. Her dad picked up, thank the lord, but was he the answer to her prayers? No, of course not, because Arthur must have worked his voodoo magic some of her classmates were talking about and bewitched both of their parents.

"It's for that baby assignment right?" her dad asked. "I don't see a problem with it."

"B-but Daaaad!" Amelia hissed into the phone. She knew her father was easygoing. He was like _the_ original suburban dad, complete with the socks-in-sandals look, grill day Saturdays, and a habit of greeting every male that was ten years younger than him with a, "How ya doin', son?" But this was extreme even for him.

"But Dad what? His mother is there too, right?"

"Yeah, but that's not—"

"Then I'm sure you'll be fine. You're a lovely girl. I'm sure they'll like you. No need to be nervous."

"I'm not nervous!" Amelia whisper-screamed into the phone. And she wasn't nervous. She was terrified. There was a difference.

"Of course not, sweetie. But if it really doesn't work out, you can always come home and spend the weekend with your old man. I was even planning to go to Home Depot this weekend. We could—"

"Thatwon'tbeneccessary, gottago! LoveyouDad, bye!" Amelia mashed her screen so hard to end the call that she was surprised it didn't crack. She sighed in relief at the crisis averted.

For all that she wanted to avoid staying in the Kirkland household for an entire weekend, Amelia wasn't going to risk her life. She loved her dad, she really did, but she still had PTSD from the last time they went to Home Depot. And guys said girls took forever shopping for clothes. . .

A harsh knocking at the door made Amelia jolt and squeal.

"Are you done freaking out in there?" Arthur's voice demanded.

"Don't you know not to rush a lady?!" Amelia fired back, clutching at her chest. Was she having a heart attack? It totally felt like she was having a heart attack.

Arthur neither answered her question nor pushed the issue of her supposed freaking out. He merely asked, "My mom wanted to know if you wanted anything to eat. Do you?"

"Sure, I could go for a snack," Amelia answered, not really thinking about it. She just wanted Arthur to leave her alone.

"Alright, I'll tell her," Arthur responded, and she must have garnered a little bit of sympathy from God, because he thankfully left her alone after that.

Amelia slumped in the bathtub and wondered if she could barricade herself in there for the whole weekend.

* * *

The night passed by at a snail's pace. No, worse, a handicapped snail with bad directions. And it didn't even reach its destination before someone came in and stepped on it while cackling evilly. Said evil cackling person was Arthur of course.

After she'd finished her snack, Amelia declared that she was tired and would just turn in for the night. If she went to bed early, then morning would come faster and they'd be forced to let her leave because she really did have a part-time job at a grocery store to go to. Arthur could take care of the gremlin while she was gone, and while she bagged groceries Amelia could come up with excuses to not stay another night.

As it was, she had no excuses for this night. Both their parents had okayed it (which she was still salty towards her dad for), and not even her pitiful excuses of lack of pajamas or a toothbrush fazed the Kirklands. They had an unused toothbrush for her to borrow, and Arthur _graciously_ offered to lend her some of his clothes to sleep in. To which Amelia found her own shirt and jeans to be suddenly comfortable and more than acceptable to sleep in. Arthur looked doubtful, but did he seriously think she was just going to wear some of his clothes? Like his body had touched them. Ew, no, she'd get his boy germs.

Arthur showed Amelia to one of the spare bedrooms. It actually used to be one of his older brothers' room, but they had all flown the coop and Arthur was the last birdie in the nest, living with just his single mother. And how could Arthur not appreciate her attempt at single motherhood when his own mother was one?!

Stupid, jerkface Arthur Kirkland.

The bedroom looked nice enough, plain in a way that you couldn't really tell that it had been someone else's room before. Arthur's brother must not have left anything personal behind. There was a full sized bed with a black headboard to match the end table, an old chest of drawers that looked out of place, and a large painting of a cityscape.

What if Arthur didn't actually have any brothers? What if this was just the room the Kirklands took their guests to and killed them while they were sleeping?

What?! It was a legitimate concern! Amelia had seen several horror movies that started out not too different than this.

To think . . . that fake child might actually be the death of her.

Before Arthur left her alone, he pointed out his own room and told her if she had any problems she could come get him. However, the way he worded it made Amelia forget about her worries. It sounded like he saw her as a bothersome child he'd have to tend to. It's not like Arthur was much older than her, if he was at all. She was seventeen, pretty much an adult. If he was just going to write her off before giving her a chance to prove herself, then that was his problem.

Amelia gave her best impression of winter, such was the bite of cold in her voice. "Don't worry about it. I'll be out of your hair as soon as this project is done."

Arthur hesitated at that. He stood in the doorway, mouth opening and closing while Amelia flopped down on the bed. It took him a minute until he finally said, "I know you had your heart set on doing this assignment alone, but we'll get through this easier if we work together."

Amelia waved him off. "Yeah, sure, whatever. I wasn't looking forward to taking the baby to work with me tomorrow anyway. Lucky for you, Daddy!"

Arthur didn't seem to catch the sarcasm because he actually blushed, like his cheeks legit reddened and he held the tiny fake human to his chest a little closer.

"A-alright then. Have a good night," he said and shut the door on his way out.

Amelia peered at the door.

He was such a weird guy.

Even with the Kirklands giving Amelia her privacy, Amelia knew she wouldn't get much sleep that night, being in a stranger's house and all (not to mention they could be potential murderers). She played on her phone for a while, and when the battery screamed for mercy, she snuck out to her car to get her charger. Arthur's house had been a little too far to walk to alone at night with a screaming fake baby. And then Amelia had been too scared to sit the baby down in the passenger's seat while she drove (in case the sensors inside picked up on her bad parenting), so Amelia had driven one handed the whole way over, her other arm bearing the weight of the anti-Christ.

Huh, maybe Arthur really was the father, considering how the baby shared his evil genes.

The house was dark and quiet by the time Amelia retrieved her charger. She returned to her designated room and stayed up some more messaging her brother Matthew about how unfair her life was. He was sympathetic but refused to come kidnap her and take her away to Canada where he was currently attending college. If she didn't choose to leave, then Amelia wouldn't technically be running away. Matthew didn't see it that way and eventually stopped texting her back. Talk about a shitty brother, abandoning her in her time of need.

Randomly, Amelia wondered if Arthur got on with his brothers. Did they get in text spats too? Maybe she and Arthur could bond over their mutual frustrations with sibling dickery.

Wait, what was she even thinking? Like her and Arthur were actually going to have a friendly conversation. Like Arthur even had a brother anyway, being a potential murderer and all.

Sometime during the night Amelia stirred at hearing the cries of the damned. She hadn't even realized she'd fallen asleep. Groggily, she listened to the animatronic wailing go on and on. Amelia briefly pondered if she should be a good parent and go check to make sure Arthur wasn't committing infanticide, but then again did she really care?

Apparently not because she fell back to sleep at some point. Morning came with the blaring of the alarm she set on her phone. Amelia dragged herself out of bed at the crack of dawn, sleepy-eyed and too tired to appreciate not being murdered during the night. Momma Kirkland was up and getting ready for work herself. Amelia didn't ask about her job, just let her know that she was heading back to her house to get ready for work and that she'd be back afterwards.

"Okay, dear, have fun!" Momma Kirkland said.

Have fun? At work? Maybe Amelia really should have asked her what she did for a living.

At any rate, Amelia went home to get a shower and fresh clothes. Her dad was still asleep since he didn't work weekends. Amelia thought about being petty, like stealing all the coffee out of the house. Then her dad would have an unpleasant morning, and he deserved it too! Amelia had figured out that it wasn't that her father wasn't concerned about her spending the night at a boy's house. He just didn't want the crying baby in the house either. In fact! Her dad had been the one to suggest to her last night that she should get some help from her assigned partner.

"I'm surrounded by evil fiends," Amelia said as she swiped up a banana for breakfast. "But _I'm_ a nice person. I won't stoop to their level. Because I'm nice."

Then she grabbed all the coffee and left for work.

* * *

 **Sorry for the delay in updating. I moved, then went on a road trip to Texas, then I got sick, and I've been job hunting. Also, we took in a kitten the other day. Her name is Cheeto. She says hi.**

 **Next chapter, Amelia returns to the Kirkland household and you can bet that shenanigans will ensue. The chapter's written, and I just need to edit it, and this time I shouldn't be moving or going on road trips any time soon, so hopefully you'll see an update in a few days.**


	3. Chapter 3

It was after two o'clock in the afternoon when Amelia returned to Arthur's house. The car she had parked beside in the driveway yesterday was gone now, meaning that Momma Kirkland must still be at work.

Which meant that Arthur and the unborn waited inside.

Amelia thumped her forehead against the steering wheel. She had yet to come up with a decent excuse to not stay another night. Plus she had packed an overnight bag this morning when she stopped by her house, just in case.

"Oh, sorry Arthur. It seems that I've developed an allergy to your eyebrows. I guess I'll have to go home."

Nope, still no good. Not to mention it was mean, and Amelia didn't act mean. On purpose anyway. Unless they deserved it. Which maybe Arthur did. If Amelia ditched him with their fake baby, Arthur would no doubt tell the teacher and she'd get in trouble. Curse him for enforcing this awkward set up!

Amelia leaned up and glared at the front door. Not only was it Arthur who kept her from leaving, but her pride wouldn't allow her to run away. Amelia Jones did _not_ run away from a challenge.

Bolstered by her stubbornness, Amelia exited her car and approached the house, her bag slung over one shoulder. She hesitated before knocking or ringing the doorbell. Wasn't Arthur expecting her back around now anyway? Whatever. He forced this on her. She'd just walk in.

And walk in she did. Amelia breezed inside as if she was some childhood friend who had been coming over for years and half lived there. She didn't see anyone in the entranceway or hallway, nor the living room.

"Honey, I'm hoooome!" Amelia called out, thinking Arthur might be upstairs. A loud bang came from the kitchen area, like metal clashing against metal. Amelia frowned. "Arthur? You alive?"

"In here!" he called back from the kitchen. Well that was good. At least the house wasn't getting burgled.

Arthur stumbled out of the kitchen doorway before Amelia could see what was going on in there. His eyes were wide in an excited way, and he had smears of something on his face and arms and . . . was that an apron?

"You're back," he stated the obvious.

"That I am," Amelia nodded. She would have given a better response but she was kind of distracted by Arthur— _Arthur Kirkland_ —wearing a mint green apron.

She never thought he could look so . . . domestic.

Arthur stared at the bag she carried. "What's with that?"

Amelia shrugged. "Ya know . . . overnight bag."

"Oh. Right. Uh, here, let me take that for you." Arthur just about sprung at her in his rush to unburden her. Not that it was much of a burden to her. It really was just an overnight bag, but Amelia was too stupefied to stop him. He held her bag in one hand and gestured for her to enter the kitchen with the other. "I'll put it up for you. You must be tired from work. Go ahead and have a seat. I'll be right back."

Then he was gone. Amelia blinked slowly, unsure of what just happened.

Why was Arthur being so considerate of her? Eh, maybe his mom told him he needed to be a good host or he'd get grounded.

Amelia walked into the kitchen. Immediately she stopped and felt unsure again, only this time it was ten times worse.

She didn't know where to look first honestly. The counters were such a mess. Dirtied skillets on the stove. More dirtied dishes filling the sink. Raw ingredients strewn about consisting of vegetables, bits of meat, cheese, and who knew what else.

And on the island counter, away from most of the culinary madness, was the demon child sat in some sort of constructed baby box cradle thing.

This wouldn't be that alarming if it wasn't for the fact the baby was propped up with little pillows, allowing it to sit up and stare directly at Amelia. If she took a step to the left, would its beady eyes follow her? She swore to God if the thing was actually possessed, she would—

"Alright?"

Amelia startled (totally not squealing in fright) and jumped to the side, away from where Arthur had touched her arm. He didn't grin accomplishedly like she might expect him to. He looked worried.

How uncool must she look right now?

Amelia forced herself to stand normally and not like she expected to be eaten by a monster. "Yeah, yeah, I'm good. What's up?"

Arthur didn't seem convinced. "You were just standing there . . ."

She smiled too big. "Yeah! I was just . . . surprised by all the . . . activity! Yeah, the activity in here. You've been busy, huh?"

Somehow, that poor display distracted Arthur. He glanced around the kitchen and that same excited look came back to his eyes. "Yes, well. I thought you might be hungry when you got back, so I took the liberty of preparing lunch."

Amelia had figured that Arthur had been cooking, but when he phrased it like that, that it was for _her_ benefit, she couldn't help the disbelief.

"You made me lunch?" she asked, just to be sure she hadn't heard wrong.

He nodded, not looking quite at her. "Yes, I did. It should be done by now. Let me just check the oven. Go ahead and have a seat."

Amelia sat on one of the bar stools at the island counter and watched Arthur go about checking whatever was cooking in the oven. The baby sat in its box beside her. Now that she was closer, she could see that it was constructed out of a shoe box. Arthur had lined the inside with cushions and stapled or sewn yellow and blue dotted material on everything to make it look nicer. He'd even strapped a yellow bow on the baby's head, though God knew where he got it.

"So uh . . . what's with Junior?" Amelia asked, because how could she not?

"Do you like it?" Arthur asked. His back was turned to her as he pulled out a casserole dish and placed it on the stove. "I had some time on my hands and thought I might as well do something useful."

"Um . . . yeah," Amelia answered. She expected Arthur to turn around, reveal the hidden camera, admit this was a prank. Because this had to be a prank, right? Arthur Kirkland did not go around wearing an apron, cooking meals like a housewife, and making baby beds.

Or . . . did he? Amelia didn't really know Arthur that well. Was this the real Arthur Kirkland? The one who existed behind closed doors?

And was this actually creepier than the rumors that he practiced occult stuff and performed satanic rituals?

Maybe, if it weren't for the fact that Arthur had made her food. Free food was good food, and if Arthur wanted to go out of his way to make it for her, so be it.

"What'd you make?" Amelia asked, starting to feel excited herself. This whole parenting thing might not be so bad. She could be the breadwinner and then she'd return home to her husband who took care of the baby most of the day and had food cooked and waiting for her when she got off work. That sounded like a great life to her.

"It's Cumberland pie. I'll make a plate for you," he said, reaching up to pull out a plate from one of the cabinets.

"I don't know what that is, but I do like pie."

Arthur chuckled. "Well, it's not a dessert pie. It's a form of Shepherd's pie."

"Oh yeah! I've heard of that!" Not that she could remember what was in it. Arthur didn't need to know that.

He hummed and finished dishing her out a serving. He turned around, sliding the plate towards her along with a fork.

"Here you are," he said proudly.

Amelia tried not to gape but failed horribly.

She didn't know what Cumberland or Shepherd's pie consisted of, but whatever was on her plate, she didn't think it was supposed to be anything like _that_. It resembled a burnt brick mixed with brown flakes, and the inside oozed out in a way that resembled snot.

And dear sweet lord, the _smell_.

Arthur questioned her extended pause. "Is something wrong?"

Amelia had one of two choices here. Option one, Arthur really was getting revenge on her for her initial uncooperativeness and this was some elaborate prank. If she ate it, he'd get the last laugh. And if she instead smashed the dish in his face, he'd deserve it.

But on the other hand, if Arthur was being genuinely considerate and he was just a really bad cook, she would hurt his feelings if she refused to eat it. And if she did suck it up and eat it, she'd get food poisoning. If he was being serious right now, she couldn't come out the winner either way. Or come out alive for that matter.

Now that she thought about it, wasn't there a rumor about Arthur and his cooking? It might just be nothing more than a rumor. Arthur could have weaponized his cooking to use against people he didn't like. This could still be a prank.

….but could she take that risk?

Her body chose for her and Amelia found herself saying, "No, nothing's wrong. I just still can't believe you went to the trouble of cooking for me."

"Oh, it was really no trouble at all," Arthur said, scratching his cheek. Hmmm, he didn't _seem_ to be acting.

Amelia swallowed down her better sense and asked, "Could you get me something to drink?" If she was really going to do this, she'd need something to wash it down.

"Sorry, I didn't even think . . ." Arthur murmured as he rushed to the fridge. Amelia said she'd be fine with a glass of water. He brought one to her and that left nothing else to delay the torture.

"Guess I'll just . . . dig in then," Amelia said, swiping up the fork. She cursed herself one last time for being such a nice person and took the first bite.

Charcoal.

Sewage.

Death.

Like literally, her taste buds shriveled up and died upon contact. Except they kept dying. Over and over her senses were bitch slapped into the afterlife, only to be brought back and hit again.

"How is it?" Arthur asked, and damn it all, if he didn't look so hopeful she would have spat her mouthful in his face.

Amelia pushed through and choked down the bile-like substance. She pretended like she didn't want to guzzle down the glass of water and patiently drank a few sips.

"It's . . . the most unique thing I've ever tasted," she answered vaguely.

Arthur glowed, a smile perking up his face, and it was unfair how sweet he managed to look. "I'm glad. I've been practicing hard recently to get better at cooking."

Didn't that just kick her heart out of her chest with feels? As well as explode her mind. Because dude, this was Arthur's cooking _after_ he'd been practicing?

But that _look_ on Arthur's face! Like he was so happy and proud of himself. If Amelia really had refused to eaten it, he would have been heartbroken. Thank goodness she didn't, but could her stomach really handle the rest?

Her stomach gurgled a stern protest.

"It's yummy," Amelia said through gritted teeth and took another bite.


	4. Chapter 4

Through sheer will power alone, Amelia managed to polish off her plate while Arthur cleaned the kitchen. He offered her seconds but Amelia insisted that she simply couldn't eat another bite. Which wasn't a lie. If she put any more of that monstrosity in her mouth, she would vomit.

"How 'bout I cook supper for tonight?" Amelia suggested. "Since you were nice enough to make lunch."

It was like she had proposed they flee the country together and hop the border into Mexico. Arthur balked. "What? I couldn't possibly make you do that."

"You wouldn't be making me. I volunteered."

"You're a guest," he protested. "My mother wouldn't let me hear the end of it if I let you."

"But you'd be doing me a favor," Amelia muttered. No sense in risking her life again on either Arthur or his mother's cooking. "I _love_ to cook. Besides, you got to cook for me. It wouldn't be fair if you didn't let me cook for you too!"

Arthur shuffled nervously by the dishrack where he had placed all the clean dishes. His arms crossed. "I don't know . . ."

Guess it looked like she would have to pull out the big guns.

Amelia slid from her seat and pranced around the island counter. She got all up in Arthur's personal bubble, clasped her hands together, and peered up at him with puppy dog eyes. And hey, if she managed to lean forward in such a way that showed off a bit of cleavage, all the better.

"Pleeeease," Amelia begged, voice saccharine. "Don't you want to try my cooking?"

Arthur leaned back, surprised by the sudden breach of space, but he made the fatal mistake of letting his eyes glance down too low for a split second. Amelia saw it and smiled all the more sweetly when he wrenched his gaze to a more decent level.

"I, er, I mean . . ." Arthur was utterly flustered, his pasty skin swiftly tinging red all the way up to his ears. This wasn't the first time that a guy had reacted in such a way to Amelia, but she had to admit it was one of the most amusing sights she'd ever seen.

Amelia decided to go in for the kill. She reached forward, folded her fingers around the sleeve of his shirt, and tugged gently. "Please?" she asked in a small, cutesy tone. Her eyes batted imploringly, endearingly.

She could see his resolve crumble, but then the damn doll started wailing. Arthur snapped out of his daze and hurried over to the baby, ignoring Amelia completely. He didn't catch her mouthing curses or how she choked the air behind him.

"What's wrong, darling?" Arthur cooed, as if the thing was actually real and could hear him. He bounced the fake child with so much care and attention that Amelia wondered if he would even notice if she took her shirt off.

"Maybe it's crying over how unfair life is," Amelia muttered. "Or maybe it's just out to get us."

Arthur snorted. "I'm sure that's it." He then seemed to remember what just took place between him and Amelia. She could tell by the way his gaze shifted to her but didn't quite meet her own. He coughed awkwardly and focused on the baby. Despite its crying, he perked up. "Would you like to go to your mommy?"

"Mommy?" Amelia repeated, eyes wide and mouth set in a grim line.

He smiled and, without her approval whatsoever, maneuvered the baby into her arms. The only reason she held onto it was to keep it from falling. She wanted to quickly toss the thing back at him. Or maybe into the trashcan.

"Why are you subjecting me to this torture?" Amelia demanded.

He frowned. "You haven't been with him all day. It's important for his mother to interact with him too."

Why did he have to phrase it like that? Like they were actually playing mommy and daddy. He could have just left it at it being her turn to take over.

Amelia peered down at the still face of the bawling baby. If only she could cry into the abyss too.

"Same, child. Same."

* * *

That afternoon was . . . odd.

Of course, the whole situation of staying at Arthur's house was odd. Never in a million years did Amelia think that she would ever have a reason to step foot into his home. It's not that Amelia had anything against the guy. They just ran in different social circles more often than not. Despite going to the same school for years, he was nothing more than another passing face, one she recognized but didn't truly know.

Now they were sitting on Arthur's living room couch, watching TV together. What had started out as a debate on what show to watch somehow turned into an argument over what to name their fake child.

"You're atrocious at names."

Amelia shrugged. "I don't see what the problem is with my suggestion."

"We are not naming our child Lucifer!" Arthur yelled at her, scandalized.

"I think it's fitting." She held the baby up to him, letting it face him. "Doesn't he just scream fire and brimstone?"

"You're terrible," Arthur said, snatching the baby away and into the safety of his arms. So much for Amelia needing to spend motherly bonding time with it.

"No, what's terrible is how much that thing cries."

"You can't hold it against him. He's a baby. Babies cry a lot. What did you expect? On second thought, don't answer that. I shudder to think what your viewpoint on parenting consists of."

"Excuse you? I would be a good mom. But a hunk of crying plastic doesn't exactly stir my maternal instinct, so this doesn't even count."

"Of course it counts," he snapped a little too loudly. He caught himself and glanced down at the baby cradled in his arms, as if it might awaken and start crying (which was honestly a real possibility). Arthur calmed himself and continued. "This assignment is to give us an idea of what being a parent is about. If you can't handle this baby, then what makes you think you could handle a real one?"

"Because it would really matter then." If Amelia had a real child— _her_ child—then she would move mountains for that baby, if that's what it took. It would come from her, she would love it, and she'd bear with all the crying and dirty diapers if it meant that she could rock it to sleep or make it giggle by making silly faces. For her child, she would handle it.

Without warning, Amelia vividly remembered the previous night when she had knocked frantically on Arthur's door, near tears herself from frustration at her own helplessness.

Hadn't Amelia been just as determined then? Hadn't she told both the teacher and Arthur that she would embody all the single mothers in the world? Hadn't she said that she could handle it by herself then too?

But it was just a fake baby. And it wouldn't stop crying, and her dad hadn't been much help yesterday, and she'd had to seek help elsewhere. It wouldn't come to that, if it was her own child.

…right?

Arthur rolled his eyes. "If anything, you're being graded, so that at least should matter to you."

Amelia watched Arthur and how he held the baby with confidence, a confidence much like she had in the beginning before its foundation revealed cracks.

Would Arthur be as competent with a real baby? Better even? He acted as if it were natural to him, like he knew the ins and outs of parenting already.

If Amelia had a real baby and found herself in over her head again, would she run again to someone dependable like Arthur?

Amelia shook her head, weirded out by the line of thought. She didn't want to think about this. She just wanted to be frustrated at Arthur and this stupid assignment.

"Whatever," she said, waving a hand in dismissal. "And since when is our fake child a boy? Maybe it's a girl."

Arthur blinked at her with _that_ look on his face. She had seen _that_ look several times from Matthew when they were out in public together and he was trying desperately to look like they weren't related.

"What? _What_?" Amelia asked. She wasn't stupid. He didn't need to keep looking at her like that.

"Amelia . . . have you even tried to change our child's diaper?"

"Yes, thank you very much. I know how babies work, and I tried that before I came over yesterday. I'm not stupid."

"Then you should be aware that our child is in fact a boy."

"And how would I know something like that?"

Arthur threw up his arms in exasperation, except he still held the baby in one arm, so he was only throwing up one arm so he looked weird. "How about the genitals? That would be a clear sign. What did you do? Change his diaper with your eyes closed?"

"Uh, yeah? There's this thing called privacy, dude. Even babies have a right to it." No matter how evil those babies were. And did Arthur seriously just use the word 'genitals'? No one says that in conversation unless you're a doctor or whatever. Arthur was so strange.

Arthur covered his face with a hand. "You're unbelievable. Completely unbelievable."

Amelia smiled a toothy grin at him. "I try."

He pointed a finger at her to stop her. "No, that wasn't a compliment."

"Whatever. You're just jealous because I'm a sympathetic mom who thinks about the needs of her daughter."

"It's a _boy_."

"Maybe it wants to be a girl. Thought about that? You should really be more supportive, Arthur."

He sighed, done with her. Amelia felt like she won the argument until Arthur said softly, "Does it . . . does it really matter to you?"

She stared at him, not sure where he was suddenly going with this. "Uh . . . does what matter?"

"You know," he said, nodding his head towards the baby. "Whether you have a boy or a girl?"

Amelia raised a brow. "Uh . . . I guess not. If I had to choose though, I guess I'd want a boy."

She thought Arthur would get frustrated again, ask her why she was putting up such a fuss then over whether they had a son or not. Instead, he asked simply, "Why?"

Why? Why _did_ she want a son? And for that matter, why did Arthur seem invested in her answer? She could see it in the way he peered at her, honesty brimming in those bright green eyes.

Well if he was being honest with her, then she supposed she could be honest with him too.

"Eh, mostly so they won't have to put up with all the crap a girl does. Being a woman is hard."

"I wouldn't know," Arthur said, lips tilting up the tiniest bit. Was he . . . he was! He was joking with her.

Amelia narrowed her eyes at him in a—dare she say— _friendly_ manner. "What about you, Kirkland? Would you want a son or a daughter?"

He glanced back down at the baby, considering. "I'd want both, eventually . . . But I think if I could pick what to have first . . . I'd like a daughter."

For some reason, Amelia couldn't stop from smiling. "Aww, would she be Daddy's little princess?"

Arthur flustered, blushing and fidgeting in his seat. Man was it easy to get him to blush with his pasty skin. It was kind of fun too. "I suppose, yes."

"Would you spoil her rotten?"

Arthur smiled a dopey smile. "Yes, absolutely. She'd want for nothing. I'd shower her with toys and I'd make—I mean, I'd buy her all sorts of pretty dresses. And I would read books to her or take her to places with me, like the zoo or the beach."

Amelia's heart warmed at the thought. Before, she thought that Arthur would be a strict parent. But with this new side of him unraveling, she could see him as the type to take dozens of pictures of his kids and show them off proudly to everyone who came into a twenty foot radius. She could even see him using his breaks at work just to call home and talk to his kids.

There were too many fathers out there who couldn't be bothered to pay child's support, let alone spend time with their children and genuinely enjoy it. If Arthur could remain this dedicated and become the kind of parent that he hoped, then maybe . . .

Amelia punched Arthur lightly on the arm. Or not so lightly, what with the way he rubbed his bicep and winced.

"What the hell was that for?" he complained.

She grinned. "Maybe you're not so bad after all, Arthur."

His frowning face only served to make her laugh.

* * *

 **Arthur's so giddy about** **being a dad. Amelia has no idea how far the rabbit hole goes.**

 **Thanks for all the reviews! I hope to get the next chapter out in the next week or two.**


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